Soul Music: Somebody That I Used to Know
by Niji Hitomi Kabra
Summary: Part 2. Grimmjow's been given a second chance, and he's thrown himself into it with a real passion. Now, though, the consequences of living life in the fast lane have come back to bite him. Why is Ichigo so sick? Will restoring his powers cure the illness? Can Grimmjow keep him alive until then? Especially when he knows it's all his fault. M for violence, STDs, yaoi, language.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: **Welcome back, minna! I know you're all ready to kill me for the way I left you in SDBZ. XD For those of you who are Grimm/Ichi fans, I'm sorry. I am. If you look close though, our favorite pineapple-head may show up once or twice here before we head back to him and Bya-kun. So people can follow this the right way without getting confused, this part starts between chapters 1 and 2 of SDBZ and continues running parallel to that one. In other words this is what was happening in the Living World while Ren and Bya were dealing with stuff in Soul Society.

Fair warning, this part will be dealing with some nasty stuff. No rape or anything, but implied drug-use, infidelity, and one of the most serious complications of such actions. So, just like SDBZ this not for the faint of heart. With that said, enjoy, minna! =D

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"_Ya make me so happy I could die…_"

Breathe. Focus on the down beat. Let the rhythm take away the pain. Reach out, grab the pole, spin, gyrate. Ignore the feeling of being eye-fucked. Forget that school starts again in less than seven hours. Breathe. Undo the buttons. Run a hand along the open waistband. Flash a smile that tells them everything and nothing. Twist, fling the sweat off, let it catch the strobe lights. Make love to the props. Breathe. Crawl across the stage. Float away on the guitar riffs. Burn honey eyes, promising delights that will never be filled. Breathe. Last piece, don't fuck it up. Throw it away and take the bills. Breathe. Give them one more flirty wink as you leave the stage. And don't forget: breathe.

Can't breathe!

The curtain closed on a thousand catcalls, and the orange haired youth, just over the age of consent, leaned against the wall praying the throbbing music behind him covered his wheezing coughs that kept him from catching his breath.

"You alright, Strawberry?"

He winced and fought down the fury that typically came with that nickname. It was his persona here and he had to put up with it if he wanted to keep his job. So, he nodded and moved off from the wings, hand still running along the wall for balance. Damn this cold. Losing his powers six months ago had to have affected something, making him more vulnerable to illnesses and such. This was the fourth cold he'd had since January. Maybe that was why he'd—no! He refused to think about it.

Entering the communal dressing room all of the dancers used, he plopped down in the chair that was designated as his. He'd been working at the club for a month; something to get his mind off of the things he didn't want to think about. His dad had been wary, but he was sixteen, able to consent to working jobs like this now. He certainly wasn't going to take some delivery boy job, not after winning the Soul Society's war. He'd seen too much, done too much, to pretend he was a child anymore. So, Goat Face had agreed, and he took up the nickname he hated more than almost any other.

His mirror was decorated with encouragement notes held up in the same shaped clips. The other dancers enjoyed the irony, and after a week or two, he'd come to smirk every time he thought about it. He looked tired. Running a hand through his sweaty, orange spikes he could tell he had a fever again. Those spots on his cheeks only showed up when he had one. Sighing deeply, as there was nothing he could do about it now, he reached for a cloth to wipe the stage makeup off before he put his tee shirt on.

It was late, after three in the morning. The club upstairs had just closed, his performance the crowning jewel of the evening. Saturday would dawn in the next two and a half hours, and two hours after that he had to be at his high school for the extra classes he was taking to balance out the time he'd missed training and working with the Soul Society. Shit, that meant he didn't have time for a nap, and he'd probably have to help his dad with his sisters before his shift at nine that night. At least most of the night he was just waiting tables and could take it easy, but he had three shows to do. Ugh, this was going to be a long day, and telling Goat Face about his fever would just make the man insist Ichigo take the night off, which for his sanity he couldn't do.

Saturdays especially! They'd been their night out. Every Saturday from just before New Year's until he'd caught him a month ago necking with some fruity trollop in a seedy alley not too far from the river bank. Damn it! Now he was thinking about it. The man's newfound humanity was something that Ichigo had never cursed before, but exploring that humanity with every willing body from here to Tokyo was going too far. And Kami only knew what other vices the damned feline had picked up since showing back up in his life after he lost his powers.

"Hey, Berry-kun." A soft almost female voice broke through his daydreaming.

His exhausted orbs glanced up at the second face in his mirror; a pretty cocoa colored male that could have been Yumichika's twin in every other way. "Oh, hey Mocha. How'd the tables go t'night?"

"Not bad, only about a G or two though." The slim male plopped down in the seat next to Ichigo, dressed in short shorts and a skin-tight baby doll tee shirt bearing the club's name and logo in neon letters across both his chest and his ass. He crossed his legs at the knee and frowned, though it looked more like a pout. "Berry-kun, you don't look so good. You sure you're gonna be ok for tonight?"

He was picking up Mocha's shift because the effeminate male had a date with his flavor of the week. "Yeah, I'll be fine. I just gotta grab a nap or something to keep me going 'til tomorrow morning." He flashed a shaky smile.

"Alright, just remember, working yourself to the bone won't bring in more tips, and you'll regret it when you're older." The dusky man cupped his cheek and returned his smile with a note of fondness before standing and walking off unconsciously shaking his hips provocatively.

He shook his head, amused. It only took him another five minutes to get his jeans, tee shirt, sneakers and hoodie on so he'd be ready to head home. It would take him fifteen minutes to cross town if he took the train, but it wouldn't come by the closest station until four thirty, another forty-five minutes from now. He debated just walking to school, but taking a step outside the club's back door, he shivered. Yeah, gonna wait for the train.

"G'night, 'Berry." The bouncer who manned the back door greeted him.

Ichigo waved, putting his headphones in. Since he couldn't keep his mind off of a certain someone earlier, he was in no mood to chit chat with Pineapple. If it wasn't for the different hair color, he'd have sworn the man was Renji. There were a few other subtle differences; his quiet demeanor, the way the man never wore anything with short sleeves, and his avoidance of all things alcohol. But the abrasive temper, the way he styled his hair, even the nickname he'd chosen to go with the theme of the club all screamed similarity with the vibrant redhead from Seireitei.

Soft, dark music pounded into his ears, and unconsciously he matched the beat with his footsteps. He dropped a token from his jeans pocket into the turn-style. The station was empty at this time of the day, not even the businessmen heading to Tokyo were out yet. The stairs leading up to the train itself stole his breath again, resulting in another bout of wet coughing. Shivering, he huddled in the corner of a bench in the frigid early May night air.

"Hey. Ya shouldn't be sittin' here alone at this time o' night." The all too familiar voice broke through the haze of sleep.

The sky was lightening. Crap! He'd dozed off, and missed the train. Then he focused on the tall, well-built male standing over him. "You stalking me now?" He growled.

Blue eyes shifted to the side. "Nah, this is just the line I gotta take ta get ta the warehouse."

He knew that. He cursed mentally, and drew in another breath to spit an insult back. However, the words died on his lips when the frigid air made his infected bronchioles spasm. Planting his feet on the ground, and wrapping his arms around his ribs, he leaned into the fit, eyes closed and letting whatever built up mucus work its way out of his lungs. A glob of greenish goo, tinged with pink, landed between his feet before he could draw a steady breath. He winced at it, green—not good, probably bronchitis then. If he wasn't careful he'd sink into pneumonia.

"Oi. Ya ok, Ichi?" The crystal clear blue eyes were worried.

"What do you want, Grimmjow?" The orangette panted, still holding his ribs with one arm and leaning his head against the cold metal of the terminal wall.

The former Sexta scoffed. "Feh. I saw ya dreamin' here an' thought I'd be neighborly. We're s'posed ta be 'friends', Ichigo." His eyebrows drew together looking over the former Shinigami.

"Yeah, sure. Just like the others right?" His laughter almost made him cough again. Fuck, this being sick shit was for the birds. He shivered again, internally hating that he was being weak in front of Grimmjow.

"Let me take ya ta breakfast, ne?"

A body-warmed leather jacket dropped over the orangette's shoulders, and a perverse part of his brain that he used to attribute to his inner Hollow made him aware that he could easily infect the blunette with his cold just by coughing on the collar of the jacket. Because of that voice he scowled and swallowed the denial that had almost escaped his lips. Instead he closed his eyes again, actually enjoying the contrast of warmth around his shoulders and cold on his burning forehead. As such it was several moments before he could bring himself to croak out, "Yeah, sure, Grimm."

A strong arm wrapped around his shoulders and pulled him against a broad chest that was too familiar for comfort. He inhaled the scent he'd been missing for four weeks, and tried to pretend that his heart wasn't screaming at him to wrap himself around the body holding him. He vaguely noticed that they were walking down the stairs from the train platform and out a side door to a parking lot where overnight travelers left their vehicles. He frowned as the knowledge that he'd been bullshitted hit him when Grimmjow pulled a set of keys from his pocket and clicked a button, making a dark blue Mitsubishi Lancer flash its lights.

Scowling orange brows leaned up to glare at the strong, angular jaw above him. "You lied to me. Again. How come you have a car?"

"Just get in, Ichi. Yer Dad wanted me ta come get ya. He knows yer sick." The blunette pushed him towards the passenger side door, and though he was glaring he got in. When Grimmjow took his seat behind the wheel, he sighed, "Why're ya beatin' yerself up like this?" His voice was heavy.

The fever must have loosened his tongue because the scathing remark he bit back came out sounding more tired than angry. "Because it's the only way I can get you off my mind." Silence reigned for a little while as the car pulled out of the parking lot and turned towards Ichigo's home with his father and sisters. Then the orangette broke it, "It's Saturday."

"Yeah, I know." Again silence stretched between them. Hands tightened on the wheel. "Ya know…I am sorry, Kitten."

"You aren't allowed to call me that anymore." He was glaring at the driver again. "You lost that privilege when I found that napkin in your pocket. No, maybe you lost it when I found you high as a kite on something on the school roof. Or, maybe it was when I took you back twice in the same month, only to _smell_ other guys on you." The blunette winced, but Ichigo continued, "Don't talk to me about sorry, Grimmjow. You're only sorry because you can't have me anymore."

The rest of the ride was filled with heavy silence. Pulling up to the Kurosaki Clinic, the orangette didn't even wait for the car to be fully stopped before throwing open the door and diving for freedom. "Ichi-" The door slammed on his words, and the former Espada growled, running a work roughened hand through his unruly blue spikes. He didn't leave yet. He'd been promised answers, and damnit, he was going to get them if he had to wait all day.

Within the house, Isshin Kurosaki watched his son arrive, looking more worn out and tired than any sixteen-year-old should. He mimicked his son's ex just as the door to their home slammed open. He put his goofball face on and deliberately threw a punch at the wall behind the tall eldest child.

"Save it, Dad, I don't have the energy to play this morning." The boy didn't even realize he still had Grimmjow's leather jacket around his shoulders.

The doctor frowned, and dropped the act. "Here, Ichigo. Let me take your temperature and get you something for the cough you're fighting." He turned to enter the attached clinic through a door in the living room. When he returned the orangette was spread out on the couch. His slim shoulders shook as he fought the coughing spasm the change in position triggered. Hmm, maybe it already was pneumonia. Little red flags were waving all through Isshin's medically trained mind, especially when one took in the extreme measures his son's ex had taken to experience human life in the first few months of his reappearance.

He bent over his son, stuck a thermometer in his ear, and pulled his stethoscope out of his pocket with the other hand. By the time the instrument read a temperature of 101.5 the coughing had begun to ease again. Ichigo saw the stethoscope and groaned, sitting up carefully to avoid more coughing. Isshin frowned as he listened to his son's chest.

Honey-brown eyes looked up expectantly, and he sat next to the boy on the couch. "It's definitely bronchitis, but I want to do a chest x-ray to make sure you haven't developed anything worse. You've been coughing for almost two weeks now. Why are you doing this, Ichigo? All to avoid Grimmjow?"

The orangette breathed deeply, reclining against the couch cushions somehow made that easier. "That's part of it. I can't get him out of my head, Dad, but I can't just forgive him either. The numbers I can ignore, and the drugs don't really matter because I know he can't get addicted and won't get in trouble with the cops. But when he comes ho—uh—here and has somebody else's cologne on his clothes, lipstick on his shirt, and hickies I know I didn't place, I just can't sit back and do nothing." He closed his eyes in pain. "He wants to experience life as a Human, well here's lesson number one. It sucks." A few minutes of silence stretched between them as Ichigo simply breathed. "I'm going to head to bed. Please wake me in time for dinner? I have a shift at the club at nine." Then he got off the couch and dragged himself to his room, leaving the jacket next to Isshin.

The dark haired patriarch ran his hand through his hair again, grabbed the jacket, and exited the house to speak with the blunette he knew was still sitting outside. The door of the car opened when the doctor came within speaking distance. He gratefully climbed in, handing the man his jacket back. "You've really put your foot in it, Grimm."

"I know. How is he?" Came the reply without much preamble.

"I think it's pneumonia, but he won't slow down." He shook his head. "It's like his reiatsu burned through his immune system. He's never been this sick before. This is the third time this year that he's come down with bronchitis." The ex-captain's face was drawn. The amicable relationship between the two powerhouses was something of a surprise. The Shinigami had fully expected to hate the Arrancar when he showed up in a gigai. Of course, discovering that somehow his fight with Ichigo had pushed him to the other side of the coin was something of a shock, and Isshin supposed that maybe that had something to do with it. He shook his head to clear his thoughts of the past, "How is the mask training going?"

"Pan's respondin' well. It's a little odd seein' mahself as I was as an Adjuchas inside mah head, 'specially since he's inverted. White paws, black armor." Bewildered blue eyes caught dark brown. "Th' real f'ked up part is that his blue fur is orange. Heh. 'S like I can't git away from Ichi no matter what I do. He gives me the same kinda talkin' to when I fuck up too." He shook his head, still not quite used to not having a piece of mask on his cheek. "What d'I do, Doc?"

"I don't know. He needs to heal, both physically and mentally, but I don't think he will until you two sort this out. He's just going to keep pushing himself harder and harder until he finally snaps. I'm just afraid that he won't stop until he's dead. Not having his powers is just one more weight on his already over-burdened shoulders." The doctor scrubbed his face with his hand, staying up waiting for his son to come home was not something he could do easily anymore. "I'm going to see Kisuke today about that idea we had. You sure Pantera's willing to sacrifice her claw to make the sword?"

"O' course! I just have ta work on getting' mah Resurrection back." The blunette's resolve echoed in his eyes. "We're close. I c'n feel it!"

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Grimm's car: cdnedge . vinsolutions AP / 4097 - 2 - 10252885 - 63908694 - 0 - 0 / 63908694 . jpg


	2. Chapter 2

The sun was below the horizon when Ichigo returned to the world of the awake. He glared when it felt like the world was weighing on his chest, and his arms and legs screamed with liquid fire in every muscle. The part of his mind he used to associate with Zangetsu mentioned that maybe he should call off tonight, but he reasoned that he agreed to take Mocha's shift so he owed it to his co-worker to at least try. Whatever his dad had forced on him hours ago had brought his fever down, and his chest didn't feel quite so itchy inside. He glanced at the clock; he had two hours.

Pulling himself out of bed, he ripped his sweat-drenched tee shirt from his body and dragged his feet to the bathroom. In the hallway he could hear his father and sisters eating dinner. His stomach growled, but he knew what his father would say if he showed his face downstairs. So, he told the organ to shut up and turned on the shower. He shivered at the feeling of the water, but it woke him up a bit.

Back in his room, his muscles still dragged, but he was able to put on a neon green thong, and black vinyl booty shorts that hugged his hips without much trouble. He pulled a baggy pair of jeans, a long-sleeved tee-shirt, and his hoodie over top of his 'working' gear. A spare pair of sneakers in the back of his closet got him ready for the growing darkness outside. He glanced once more at his closed door with a shallow sigh, before climbing out of his window.

It took an hour and forty-five minutes for him to make it through the darkened city to the club. Even the twilight was gone now, but the street was lit up in bright neon blue, pink, green and yellow. The bass poured out into the chilly night air. Saturday night brought all kinds of people to his work place, which meant one thing for the orange-haired dancer: big tips. Oh yeah, tonight would be good, he could feel it.

Skirting the building, he entered through the same door he used to leave a little over 17 hours before. He saw Pineapple out on the floor intimidating some punk that had gotten too close to the stage, and shook his head. Stupid kids. Geez, when'd he become so jaded? No matter, he turned down the narrow hallway to the dressing rooms. He was breathing easier than he had been for weeks, whatever Goat Face had given him really worked!

"Hey, Strawberry!" One of the few female dancers called cheerfully.

Nobody knew anybody's real name, not even the owner of the club who went by the double entendre Candy Man. So, Ichigo grinned, "Evening, Tutti." He took his seat, already removing his hoodie and shirt to don the theme for the night, tuxedos.

Tutti Frutti was a Scene-style girl with a rainbow streaked mop of chunky hair, and always dressed in vibrant, clashing colors. But she had a huge heart. So, she came over to help him get the backless shirt fastened. A pair of shimmer pants were pulled on over his shorts, and a matching jacket completed the outfit just in the nick of time. The announcer's voice over the PA told the pair they had seconds to get up to the stage. Climbing the stairs, Ichigo's breath caught and his hand flew to his chest.

"You ok, huny?" Tutti Frutti frowned, her hand on his back.

He nodded with a smile, forcing the feeling down, and they joined the line-up in the wings. The announcer addressed the club this time, "Ladies and gentlemen, whores and sluts, step right up, behind this curtain is where all your fantasies come to life. This is a place where you can escape! Welcome to CANDY LAND!"

That was their cue, the flashy, JPop-Scene female strutted her stuff, shaking vibrant ruffles and catching the spinning lights on sequins across her costume, leading the double line of black shimmery tuxedo clad dancers down the main stage until she met the pole in the middle of the catwalk. She jumped up in time to the techno music to grasp the pole and spin around upside down. Ichigo led his line of fellow dancers to the side stage along the wall where the patrons could watch the eye candy gyrate from all sides. Across the room the second line mirrored them.

The first song wasn't very long, but the hyped up confectionary laden lyrics introduced their lines. Tutti Frutti did her spins and kicks, keeping the momentum going as the beat changed. The lights went down and the LED lights along Tutti's skirt lit up. The first line, "This is the time to party" triggered a chain reaction as each of the dancers in a line hit a button under their left heels to make a running strobe light effect. It cast them in black and white as the jackets came off to reveal muscular shoulders and bare arms. The stop-motion strobing only high-lighted Tutti's more colorful glow-stick style as she removed the pieces of her costume.

Ichigo's legs trembled with each bass beat that he slammed his heel into his flash switch, but he lost himself in the music. This was the only time during his day where none of the weight of the world he carried pressed down on him. So, even though he could already feel his muscles burning and his chest heaved with the effort to take in enough oxygen, he never felt better.

In a darkened corner of the club, Grimmjow watched his berry, knowing exactly which dancer in the line-up was HIS. He sipped black light reflective alcohol and growled that he could only look, not touch. Around him were several lounging figures.

The music changed again, a growling techno beat as the first of the dancers began to trickle away to change for their individual dances. More LED lined costumes joined Tutti Frutti, and again Ichigo's line of dancers along both walls kept the beat with strobe lights, now having lost the pants to those fake tuxedos. This was the last of the floor show, after this song the individual dancers would begin.

So, Grimmjow enjoyed the secrecy of being able to ogle his favorite flavor without making himself known. The group around him were just as enthralled with the flashing lights and revealing skin. Most of them were either high as a kite, or stoned out of their minds. One or two still had their partial wits about them, and these sat closest to the blunette. The only drug in his system, as it had been for the entire month since his berry had started dancing for pay, was a minute trace of alcohol. He'd win him back, even if that meant he had to give up all of the things he'd discovered since becoming a Visored in the Living World. He took a pull on his drink, smirking as the last of the dancers filtered out.

A quick change into a new costume between sets brought the Strawberry back out onto the main stage. The piano at the beginning of his first individual song for the night gave him the entrance he needed to catch his breath. As soon as the drums and synth cut in he was gyrating and commanding the audience with his body. He strut to the pole, without ever removing a piece of clothing, to spin in a vibrant whirlwind with the drum roll. He fell back, holding on with one hand and reaching over his head to the edge of the stage, rubbing the crotch of the skin-tight white bell bottoms up and down the pole in time with the music. Lifting a leg, he wrapped it around the pole bending his spine to reveal toned abdomen between his crop top and his pants, the strings of his thong curving over his hip bones. The second time the piano took over he was back up on his feet, this time with his ass against the pole sans bell bottoms, treating it like a partner at a rave. The second drum roll was a ripple through his body as he reached behind him with a leg, the whole time working his shirt off to display silver rings through his apricot nipples.

The lights cut out and a voice came through the speakers, "Pause for dramatic effect." A spotlight flipped on to show his hand, holding the black boy shorts, that fell when the beat came back in sync with the flashing lights around the edge of the stage. This revealed Ichigo, on his knees in nothing but the lime green thong, straddling the pole. He gyrated his hips, working himself back to his feet with the synth machine. As the piano began a third time, he wrapped his body around the pole and sank to his hands and knees to prowl like a jungle cat to the edge of the stage, each placement of hand or knee a note on the piano. The last few notes brought him back to his knees, bending backwards with his spandex clad package highlighted for the crowd. His back met the stage when a soft voice asked, "Too loud?" And the lights cut out on the final piano notes.

Surrounded by darkness, Grimmjow could hardly keep his tongue in his mouth. He licked his lips and took a deep breath. Oh, yeah, that was his berry alright. All sex and innocence wrapped up in one delicious package. He gripped his glass tightly, and almost didn't hear the voice in his ear.

"Grimm, I've been looking for you everywhere." The pierced African brunette with hot pink streaked dreadlocks gripped his shoulders tightly. Was the kid strung out on something? In the darkness between shows he couldn't tell.

"What's up, 'Cril?" He asked, using the liquid of his drink to wet his tongue, and the burn of drinking it too fast to distract himself from the tightness of his jeans.

Hands decorated with rings on every finger grabbed his face frantically in the dark. "Dude, Gemma got the red card from the _motsotsi_! She got gone yesterday!"

"Ja real?" One of the others around him asked, fear obvious in his voice. The whole group was listening now.

"Ya! She done got her boarding pass few weeks 'go." The hands gripped him tighter. "Tell me ya worn a rainbow when ya doinked her, man!"

Blue eyebrows drew together. These people had no idea what he was, but he was as ignorant of their slang and phraseology as well. He gathered that whatever a 'red card' and a 'boarding pass' were that his understanding of the terms was different than what his friends meant. So, using the split second to guess at the 50/50 chance he had at calming his friend, he said, "Yeah, o' course. 'M not stupid."

"Good. I wouldn' want ya and yer boytoy ta join tha departure lounge." Cril relaxed too soon because the relief was broken a moment later.

A scream cut through the anticipatory silence when the lights came up to reveal Ichigo's prone body in the same position as he had used to end his dance. At first Grimmjow just assumed the kid had popped out, but a casual scan of the reiatsu in the area had him on his feet.

"Oi! That's ya boytoy, ain't it, Grimm?" Cril asked from behind his shoulder as they moved quickly through the crowd.

The blunette was on the stage faster than anyone could blink, and had his sensitive ear to Ichigo's chest. He looked down at the unconscious face, lips slightly parted. "He's breathing!"

The dancer who'd screamed had somebody's cell phone talking to 9-1-1. Pineapple and the other bouncers were circling the stage, keeping everybody else back, and a man in a dark green business suit with a bucket hat shading his eyes stepped up on to the stage using a wooden cane for leverage.

"Well, well, Grimmjow. I thought you were keeping an eye on him." The wavy-haired blonde stated, standing over the pair.

"Ura—" The blunette was cut off.

"Mr. Candy Man, at your service. I do hope you take better care of our Strawberry from now on." His grey eyes glinted. Then the EMTs arrived, and were trying to get through the crowd. So, Mr. Candy Man called out, "Let's let these fine fellows through please? We'll give an extra show tomorrow night for your cooperation—half price!" That removed most of the inferring crowd, except for one pale man with hard eyes.

"What about tanight! I paid good money ta see ya show! I'm gonna get a refund er I ain't movin'!" He demanded.

Pineapple growled, grabbed the man by his shirt and hauled him off of his feet. "We gotta dancer down! Yer gonna move, even if I gotta move ya!" The pale man appeared to want to say something else but the bouncer just tossed him. Glass exploded from the broken wall that nobody had realized was a window due to the pane having been blacked out with paint. Blood dripped from the bouncers hands and lower arms, but he didn't seem fazed by it.

With the last obstacle out of the way, the paramedics brought the stretcher up to the stage. Grimmjow held his breath as they shifted the unconscious orangette onto the gurney. He leapt from the platform, following, and intent on getting into the ambulance with Ichigo.

A hand on his shoulder stopped him, and Candy Man's voice said, "It'll be easier on everyone if you take your car."

As soon as he was behind the wheel, Grimmjow was on the phone with Isshin, "Doc!"

The man's voice was tired. "Moshi moshi, Grimm. What's going on?"

"Ichi passed out on stage! Candy Man called the EMTs. I'm tailin' 'em now." He slammed on the breaks as he got caught by a red light.

Isshin frowned. "He was supposed to be in bed. How'd he get to work?"

"I dunno, but I was there wi' a couple o' my guys, an' there he was dancin' as usual. I thought ya were gonna keep him home t'night?" Blue eyebrows mimicked black.

"He was the last time I checked. Before dinner. I just assumed he was sleeping. People suffering from pneumonia like he is shouldn't be able to even get up and walk around, let alone dance."

"Doc, this is Ichi we're talkin' about here. He does tha imposs'ble like it's goin' outta style." He rolled his eyes, and turned the car, following the ambulance.

"What hospital are you headed to?" It sounded like the ex-captain was pulling a coat on.

"Karakura General, looks like. Should I tell 'em ta get Doc Quincy?" It was only a few blocks away now.

The door of the house opened and closed, "No, I'll get Ryuuken. You stay with Ichigo. Use reiatsu if you have to, but keep him stable until we get there."

"Sure, Doc…" He trailed off for a moment.

"Is there something else, Grimm?" Isshin paused in his movements to get into his own car.

"Just somethin' one o' my fraccion said. Doc, what's _motsotsi_?" Grimmjow felt cold when the line went silent. "Doc?"

"It's a Zimbabwe slang term for AIDS, Grimm."

* * *

**References:**  
Cril's slang: www . plusnews Report / 78809 / AFRICA-Mind-your-language-a-short-guide-to-HIV-AIDS-slang  
Candy Land floor show: www . youtube playlist ? list = PLDCA2D752ADD508B9

**A/N: **Yes, the announcer's words were directly copied from the song Candy Land by Blood on the Dance Floor, and I couldn't help it, the songs that became the floor show were the ones I was listening to while writing. XD


	3. Chapter 3

"What do you want, Grimm?" He groaned. Hospital food sucked. Needles sucked. Oxygen sucked. The television sucked. Hell, everything sucked! A week in this Kami-forsaken place and he was ready to tear his hair out. Of course, that wouldn't help. All that would do would be to put him in the psychiatric ward. They'd already tried after he regained consciousness and heard how long he'd gone untreated. For once, Goat Face had pulled through there.

Now though, the blue-haired former Arrancar that also happened to be his first real ex-boyfriend, was standing in the doorway of his room, looking like he'd been punched in the gut and strangely silent. He vaguely remembered that the man had been there for most of the past week, though a lot of that time had been spent sleeping.

Sighing, he tried another route. "You weren't here yesterday. Where'd you go?" He was still so very tired. The doctors told him it was the pneumonia; he wasn't so sure, but he didn't have the energy to maintain the kind of animosity he'd been holding onto since January.

"Funeral." Grimmjow said quietly. "She was a friend o' mine. One o' the crew. She, uh, died," He paused, "the day before ya collapsed."

The orangette nodded. "I'm sorry. Was she…?" He trailed off, trying not to imply anything but they both knew what he meant.

"Yeah. The first. Well, after you, o' course."

They fell into a somewhat awkward silence for a while. Ichigo staring at the blankets unsure what to say, and Grimmjow leaning against the doorframe like it was the only thing capable of keeping him on his feet.

"Y'know…"

"Look, Grimm…"

They spoke at the same time, turning to face each other. When their eyes met, the orangette looked away first, a soft blush dusting his cheeks. He picked at the blanket a little. So much he wanted to say, but how? Just looking at the former Espada made his heart clench and did things to his body that made him lose what little breath he had at the moment.

"Why don't you come take a seat?" He asked softly. There was a slight hesitation until he added, "You weren't bothered while I was sleeping. I could practically feel you staring then."

"S 'cause yer beautiful, Kitten."

A hand that had once been tanned reached out to touch his own on the blanket, and he let his eyes follow the sculpted arm up to the powerful jawline and chiseled features of his ex's face; all the way up to those endlessly blue eyes. His breath hitched. He opened his mouth but what came out was a body shaking cough that had him pulling his hand back to grab his ribs. The episodes weren't as long now that he'd been on IV antibiotics and oxygen for a week, but they were wet and sounded like he was trying to remove his lungs through his mouth. When he'd gotten his body back under control, he leaned back against the pillows that kept him propped up at an angle.

"Way to ruin the moment." He muttered, forgetting just how sensitive the Sexta's ears were. A glass of ice chips appeared in front of him, and once again he got lost in those eyes. "Thanks." He took the cup, half-smiling. He'd just focused on the ice when Grimmjow began to speak again.

"I was gonna say before…y'know they didn' mean anythin' right?"

"Yeah, but that's not the point—" The blunette cut him off.

"I know." He looked away, rubbing the back of his neck as those piercing amber eyes narrowed. "That is, I know that now." Silence descended on them again. "Look, I know yer not gonna jus' fergive and ferget. I gotta earn yer trust back, or at least, 'M gonna try m' hardest. Yer worth it, Kitten, and what I did…I know it ain't right."

Ichigo shook his head. "You think it's that easy? You come waltzing in here and lay down some kind of light bulb moment you've had and I'll just let you come back like nothing happened?" He took as deep a breath as he dared, and clenched his hands in the blanket. "I love you. I think I loved you even all the way back then, but I'm not some toy you can play with when you feel like it. This isn't Hueco Mundo where you can do what you like and forget the consequences. You asked us to teach you what it was like to be Human, to give you a life that you had never had before. Well this is part of it. Sometimes when you fuck up you can't just come back again."

"Kitten—"

"Don't call me that." His eyes flashed.

"Ichigo, " Grimmjow amended, "M tryin' here. What d'ya want me ta do? I gave up the drugs. I haven't been laid since you an' me split. What's it gonna take ta prove 'M loyal?" He was trying to keep his temper in check. His pride screamed that he was being ridiculous, but he needed the strawberry in front of him like he needed air and water.

"It's just not that simple." The orangette shook his head again, this time looking away.

Silence pervaded the room again, and the former Espada shifted uneasily in his seat, trying to come up with something to say. He'd meant to come and ask about what his Kitten's father had said, but he still didn't know how to ask about it. Just the way Isshin had said the sentence told the blunette that it was something important. He had just made a noise at the time, and then all of their attention was on Ichigo, making sure the baka got the medicine he needed to defeat the whatever-it-was that was hurting him. Unaware that he did it, the feline Visored let out a small growl of frustration; he still didn't understand human diseases.

Ichigo reacted to the growl, unaware of the Sexta's internal monologue. "Well, if it's such a frustration, why do you bother?" He glared, arms crossed over his chest.

"I didn' mean…that's not what…augh, Kitten!" Grimmjow growled again, knowing that he was digging himself in deeper. He frowned, trying to find the words, but the orangette beat him to it.

"Didn't mean what, Grimm? To lie to me? To cheat on me? To run around behind my back?" His scowl grew darker, "Or did you not mean that you want to re-earn my trust?"

"No! Gods! When did ya become so paranoid?!" The panther's patience was practically gone.

The orange-haired Visored waved his arms, "Oh, I don't know, about the same time that I stopped being able to tell where you went during the day! You always know where I am, but I can't sense you for shit!"

"Is that what this is about!? The fact that I still have reiatsu!? Kami, Kitten! I can't help that!" His cerulean eyes flashed as he jumped to his feet, leaning on the railing of the bed.

"I know! But that doesn't mean you can abuse it!" They were nose to nose with equally dark glares forcing them to stare into each other's eyes.

"How many times do I have ta say 'M sorry before it sinks inta yer thick head?!" Grimmjow growled.

Ichigo responded with, "Until you actually mean it!"

"AUGH!" The blunette spun away in frustration.

"Grimmjow Jaegerjaques, don't you dare wa—" A spasm in his chest told the younger man that he'd over-taxed his capacity for air again. He doubled over in the bed, and the former Espada flashed back to his side, a hand stroking down his back in a motion that he'd used multiple times over the course of the last week to help calm the violent coughing.

A nurse came rushing into the room, having heard their previous argument. She shot a glare at Grimmjow and pulled a sedative out of her pocket. Sending it into the IV brought relief in a few seconds. Once the orangette was stable, she rounded on the feline. "You need to leave. Kurosaki-san has had enough excitement for one day."

For a moment it seemed like the blunette was going to object, but he shifted his gaze from the angry nurse to Ichigo's exhausted frame and back again. He let out a breath, his shoulders slumping. "Fine. I'll…see ya 'round, Kitten." He couldn't look at the orangette at the moment.

The Sexta was almost out the door when the former Visored called, "Wait." They met eyes again when Grimmjow turned around, and still somewhat breathless, Ichigo asked, "How did she die? Your…friend, I mean?"

A spectrum of emotions crossed the feline's face, "Uh," He settled on confused frustration, "she had somethin' called Otto-mune Efficiency Disease, er somethin'. 'S got ev'rybody in the group up an' worried." He shook his head, scratching at the back of his neck with a scowl at the floor. "I don' understand it 'xactly, but they seemed ta be int'rested in whether I wore somethin' called a 'rain-' somethin' when I was with 'er."

"You mean Auto-Immune Deficiency?" Ichigo asked. He blinked a few times, mostly concentrating on his breathing.

"I dunno. It was somethin' like that." Grimmjow shrugged again. His eyes darted over to the nurse and back again, silently trying to tell the orangette why he was confused without freaking out the still irritated hospital staff member.

The former substitute Shinigami nodded, and rested his head against the pillows with a quiet sigh. He didn't want the Sexta to leave, but the man had to learn that sometimes he couldn't just apologize for what he'd done and everything would be fine again. So he closed his eyes to hide the pain and stilled his breathing to feign sleep.

Grimmjow stood there for a few more minutes, just watching the young man that had become the center of his universe. Just months ago, he hadn't even been aware he had a heart, and now it was no longer his own to command. Much to the disapproval of the nurse, the blunette crossed back to his strawberry's bedside. He leaned in and brushed the exposed temple with a kiss.

"I will win ya back, Kitten. I swear it. I love ya too much not ta." He pulled away and left the room finally, not seeing the small smile that tugged at Ichigo's lips.

About an hour after the Espada-turned-Visored left, the former Shinigami captain who also happened to be the orangette's father arrived. By then Ichigo really had fallen asleep again and it left Isshin to his thoughts in the mostly silent room. He sighed, Grimmjow's question in the car coming back to him. Why would the Arran—_former_ Arrancar want or need to know about AIDS? Had he come up against it? The doctor scrubbed a hand over his face and sighed again, a little too loudly.

"Mm? Dad?" Ichigo cracked an eyelid.

An internal debate crossed Isshin's face. "Hey." He finally said softly. He opened his mouth but his son's scowl stopped him.

"If you ask me how I'm feeling I'm going to have the nurse throw you out the way she did with Grimm earlier."

"Ok, I won't." Dark eyes searched the room for something to focus on besides the young man's sunken cheeks and dark circles. Deciding on the blanket, he asked, "So, he was here huh? You two talk any?"

Ichigo snorted. "He tried to apologize again. He's not getting that the number of apologies doesn't matter."

"Well, you do have to be a little patient with him, Ichi. He's not used to all of this." The doctor traced the design on the blanket unconsciously. His son snorted again, and it drew his attention back to the orangette. "So, where was he yesterday if he was here today?"

"He said one of his friends had died. She had some disease. He called it Otto-mune or something." Ichigo shook his head.

The bottom of Isshin's stomach fell out. "Was she one of his…?" He trailed off, going cold as he anticipated Ichigo's nod. He sucked in a breath, a dangerous click crossing his thoughts. His son's lack of energy, near constant illness over the last three months, and Grimmjow's promiscuous behavior. His mouth dried up and he tried to swallow the lump in his throat without the benefit of saliva. If the orange-haired patient noticed he didn't say anything, but as they visited Isshin took stock of his son's appearance. He deliberately moved the topic of conversation away from the former Espada and his group of human friends, concentrating on what Yuzu had been doing for the week and how much Ichigo would adore her cooking once he got to come home.

The sun had set by the time their visit had worn Ichigo out again. He yawned widely, and Isshin smiled. "I'll let you get some sleep, and I'll see you tomorrow. Maybe I'll bring Yuzu and Karin and we can have dinner together."

"Yeah." The orangette yawned, letting his exhaustion get the better of him, "I'd like that." He closed his eyes and his father almost believed him to be asleep again, but then he asked, "About Grimm's friend, do you think maybe what she had was catching? Could Grimm get sick from being with her?"

The former captain pursed his lips, and was quiet for a dangerous, long moment, "Yeah, I think maybe he could." The implied 'you too' hung in the air between them when Ichigo nodded and gripped his father's hand.

Isshin tried to fight the sigh that threatened him, and bent over, clutching his son's hand, to kiss him. "Sleep well, Little Berry. Your mom and I will pray that I'm wrong." He spoke quietly, and as soon as he knew the former Visored was truly asleep, he left for the night to arrange for the appropriate blood tests to be drawn the next morning. Oh Kami, how he prayed his gut was wrong.

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**A/N:** Not much to say here. How are you guys liking this so far? It's hard for me to tell when there's no reviews, but I hope you all are enjoying it. Ja ne, minna!


	4. Chapter 4

The smell of make-up, sweat, stale alcohol, and a scent that Ichigo could only describe as the stage assaulted his senses. It was like coming home. He inhaled deeply, finally feeling like himself again after almost two months of 'recuperation' at his father's behest. So, standing in the doorway of the dressing room at Candy Land had his nerves on fire and the electricity of the upcoming show created a pool of excitement in his belly. He had all of about five seconds to enjoy this though as an ear-splitting squeal broke through his reverie.

"STRAWBERRY!" Tutti Fruiti literally pounced him and clung to his shoulder. "WE MISSED YOU! Didn't we boys?" She turned to grin at the night's line-up.

Mocha smiled and waved. He'd been the only one to visit the orangette while he was in the hospital. Next to him sat Chai, a lanky brunette with a thing for collars and arm bands; Licorice, bulkier than both Chai and Mocha put together and the only dancer sporting facial hair as he had squared off sideburns that reached his jawbone; and Coconut, a silver-haired man who looked to be older than the rest but had one of the most impressive sets of abs Ichigo had ever seen. The dancer must have been extremely proud of them because he often wore open or skin tight shirts so he could display his six-pack.

"Candyman tonight, ne?" The orangette asked, taking in the costumes the male dancers were wearing.

Tutti Fruiti smiled and winked, "You know it, Berry-tan!" She bounced her way over to Coconut and glomped him. "Since you're here though, that means I don't have to go on. You're up for it right?" She leaned her head over the silver hair of the man who was ignoring her.

"Of course. I know that one like the back of my hand." He laughed, waving her off. She wasn't at all dressed yet, so he didn't feel bad about stealing her tips. "Let me grab a drink and I'll come back so you can help strap me into the costume."

Fifteen minutes later Ichigo was dressed in a pair of skin tight bright red leather pants made up completely of buckles and straps, a matching half-shirt with the same buckles and straps down both arms, a corset of darker red, and knee-high black boots. All together he had forty-eight buckles holding the majority of his costume together. He added another buckle when he donned a thick black collar. A touch of eyeliner and color to his lips so he wouldn't wash out completely on stage and he was almost ready. Tutti Fruiti gave him a final go over and smacked his ass on his way out of the dressing room to join the other 'Flavors' in the line-up to go on stage.

No sooner had he left than the blue-haired menace that had been keeping tabs on him since he'd been discharged from the hospital exploded into the dressing room. "Where is he?!"

"Where's who, Blue?" Tutti asked, her hand on her hips and a tilt to her head.

"Ich—ah Strawberry." Grimmjow stumbled over the stage name.

The Scene girl flicked shook her head, making the dreadlocks of her ponytails shimmer in the bright lighting, "He's already in the line-up. If ya hurry ya might catch him."

He was already out the door and tearing up the stairs to the wings before she'd even finished her sentence. He at least knew enough not to go yelling for the man as he dashing through the back stage area. He did, however, shove several of the other dancers out of the way, earning himself dirty looks and a muffled expletive before stopping at the bottom of the stairs leading up onto the platform in the center of the stage.

When the blunette finally caught up to his favorite Flavor, the strawberry was adjusting his fingerless gloves with two fingers, the other three curled around something that Grimmjow couldn't make out in the darkness. He could see the scowl he received from the top of the steps and almost felt bad for hounding the orangette.

"What are you doing here, Grimm?" Ichigo asked, feeling repetitive. It seemed like he was always asking that question of his ex.

"Ya can't dance yet! Yer dad said ya aren't ready. Ya don't have yer wind back, an' I won't stand by an' watch ya collapse on stage ag'in." He couldn't meet the angry amber glare, fidgeting.

A stage hand leaned around the corner. "Five minutes, boys."

The orangette looked up briefly and then back down. "Look, Grimm, I don't have time for this right now. It takes too long for someone else to get strapped into all of this. I'm dancing and that's final."

Using his feline reflexes and significant upper body strength, the Sexta hauled himself up onto the stairs in front of his berry. "I don't want ta see ya get hurt ag'in. Tha last time ya were on that stage ya wound up laid up fer two months." He reached out to touch Ichigo's cheek but the orangette batted his hand away.

"I'm not sick anymore, and you're in the way. I have to go on."

Grimmjow growled, and the stage hand walked past. "Two minutes." Earning the petite blonde a dark glare and a second growl.

"Grimmjow, get out of the way or so help me I will pull you on stage with me." Ichigo fisted his hips and glared up at the now higher blunette.

"Then yer takin' me on stage wi' ya." The former Espada crossed his arms over his chest and gave the object of his affection his 'I'm not movin' glare.

Ichigo rolled his eyes, "Fine. But you'll need the trench coat from Mr. Candy Man behind you."

He gestured and the Sexta turned around to see the same wavy blonde-haired man from the stage two months ago, standing at the entrance to the stage with Mocha and Chai in between him and the spill of the lights. The smile the club owner wore was entirely too familiar for Grimmjow's comfort and the glint in his eye spoke volumes about the sort of trouble the blunette would find himself in should he attempt to take the trench coat.

However, with a spin of the man's cane, the threat was replaced with mischief. "Of course, Strawberry. If your partner insists on participating, I'll be glad to hand over my jacket."

Somehow, magically the deep green duster fit the much larger frame of the Sexta, but considering who it came from the former Espada thought it best not to question it. While he was trying it on, the same stage hand who'd warned them of the time gave the line-up an apologetic look then pressed a button on the wall-sized stereo system.

"Tarzan and Jane were swingin' on a vine!" The man on the track shouted out across the crowded house, and a rousing cheer drowning out the vintage drumbeat and trumpets.

"That's our cue, Grimm." Ichigo stepped forward with a roll of his eyes, and started tapping the beat with the heel of his boot.

"Wai-wait!" The Candy Man's cane was shoved into the blunette's hand and the top hat that matched his duster placed on his head. "What do I do?"

"Just stand there, Raspberry." Candy Man grinned.

Mocha and Chai took Grimmjow's arms in theirs, and strutted him out to the beat, which the feline Visored easily fell into. Ichigo stepped out around them with a deliberate shake of his posterior to the upbeat song. He carried a riding crop and still had his hand wrapped around the something from before. The lights narrowed and then went out.

"Sweet…" The left spotlight illuminated Mocha with an arm across Grimmjow's chest.

The right spotlight came on, and Chai had mirrored the darker male across the blunette's back. "Sugar…"

"Candy Man." The final spotlight lit up at Grimmjow's feet to show Ichigo crouched down and looking over his shoulder.

The Sexta stood in his standard motorcycle boots, dark jeans and skin tight graphic tee-shirt, feet shoulder-width apart, both hands on the curved handle of the cane, hat tilted down to shade his eyes and bathed in a soft blue light from above. The band of the hat glittered, and the fabric shimmered.

When the trumpets came back in, the lights came back up and Coconut and Licorice joined the four already on the stage. Chai and Mocha crossed around Grimmjow and Ichigo to latch on to the two newcomers, who were both dressed in sharp black suits with matching top hats. Chai and Mocha matched Ichigo in bright blue and white respectively.

Ichigo rose to his feet and as a team the three in brighter colors strutted around to stand behind other three. On a downbeat all three draped their left arms over the respective left shoulders of their props and the three buckles down each forearm popped in succession after the first was released with click. The red, white and blue sleeves flew back over their wearers' heads into the darkness.

Three hands snapped to the beat, and their owners wiggled their way back around to wave their leather clad posteriors in the audience's face. Mocha and Chai pressed their chests against Licorice and Coconut, but Ichigo bent over the cane that made Grimmjow stand out from the other two. Where his hands were both crossed over the hook of the cane the other two had their hands in their pockets. Another downbeat had the smaller males popping the other three buckles on their respective left arms, and the sleeve disposed of over the shoulders of their props.

The lyrics prompted the three to spin around and sink down onto their heels so they could loosen the six buckles on their thighs. The word 'drop' brought them back up, the straps of their pants from knee to hip falling to leave the men in speedo-style hot-pants. The three stepped forward, shaking their hips and pressing their pelvises out to the audience.

Throughout this erotic display of his berry's body, Grimmjow stood stock still, trying his hardest to not show how nervous standing on stage made him. His eyes darted from one side of the club to the other, and his knuckles went white. His attention was drawn to them when Ichigo's hands landed on his own again. He tried to catch his berry's eyes, but caught up in the music the orangette wasn't paying attention, or maybe he was deliberately avoiding eye contact?

Lights flashed and the music continued and Grimmjow tried to just watch Ichigo. It wasn't easy but after a sidelong glance at both Coconut and Licorice he found it best to just look at his hands. The nervousness wasn't something he was comfortable with. The Sexta Espada did NOT get scared of anything. Not when he was wandering the deserts of Hueco Mundo and not now.

He was so focused on NOT being scared of being on stage that when Ichigo smacked his rear end with the riding crop he jumped forward. Only his natural reflexes kept him on his feet, but apparently the spin he unconsciously did with the cane had the audience roaring. It took all of a nanosecond for Grimmjow to make the decision to leer at his Kitten. The berry strutting around like the other two again, naked but for the boots, g-string, corset, fingerless gloves, and collar. Unknowingly, the blunette followed the smaller man in a spin that turned his back to the audience because of the presence of the crop pressed against his cheek. They'd finally made eye-contact and he'd be damned if he was going to break it.

The singer whispered into the microphone on the track again and Ichigo leaned into Grimmjow's chest, dropping the slim stick so that it was out of the way. He put his hands on either side of the Sexta's neck, and with the beat slid between his legs, all of his weight supported by the larger man. In a slick move that fit perfectly with the music, Grimmjow tossed the cane into air, caught Ichigo's hands as he slid, and spun back around to face forward again, throwing the strawberry back up onto his feet. The orangette grinned over his shoulder reaching out to grab the cane as it fell. He spun it around his arm and smacked the end against the stage, strutting around it. Leading with his pelvis again he walked up to it until he was straddling the wooden shaft. A few shimmies over it and he threw a high kick into the air to turn himself around again.

The orangette stalked back to his blue-haired partner, spinning the cane, so that when the singer started actually singing again he was right in front of the feline. The last chorus was spent displaying the strawberry's flexibility. When the man from the beginning of song started chanting again, Ichigo leaned in to almost kissing distance, but pulled back on the echoes. Grimmjow, of course followed, and the final explosion noise he jumped. The blunette caught him and the cane as confetti rained down over the stage and the audience went crazy.

Money was thrown onto the stage by the handful. Screams rang out from wall to wall. People were jumping out of their seats. It was pure chaotic mayhem, and Ichigo just soaked it all in. Shows like this were the whole reason he danced in the first place, and the secret part of him that really just wanted to forget the whole messy nonsense of the last three months relished in the fact that it was Grimmjow who was holding him instead of Mr. Candy Man.

The lights went out as the announcer shouted over the din, "Give it up for Coconut, Mocha, Chai, Licorice, and our delicious Strawberry, back from a two month hiatus! Isn't he just something else!? And how about a big Candy Land cheer for Blue Raspberry, our last minute stand in! This was his first time on stage, folks. Let him hear how much you loved him! Maybe he'll be back if you're loud enough!"

In the darkness, Ichigo hopped down, just like Mocha and Chai, and the six men moved off while the stage hands swept the performance platform for the next dancer. He tugged off one of the gloves and ran his hand through his hair. Shaking out the glitter and sweat, he dug into his corset and withdrew a gold chain with a small aquamarine-encrusted charm hanging from it. He never danced without it, and even though most of his costumes didn't let him actually wear it, he could usually tuck it somewhere, especially with ones like this. In the mix up with Grimmjow earlier he'd almost forgotten to tuck it away, and he actually had forgotten to take it off before putting his collar on.

"Hey, thanks again, Mocha." He called as the dusky male walked past.

Tossing his hair with a haughty smile. "Anytime, Strawberry." His tenor was musical, still high from an amazing performance.

Ichigo shook his head at the other, watching him wrap himself around one of the bouncers, Vanilla or something. The orangette wasn't sure, but the man wore a horribly obvious wig the color of vanilla beans. The two were on-again, off-again it seemed, and at the moment, they were most definitely on, as Vanilla grabbed Mocha's chin and kissed the smaller male soundly. The cocoa colored man gave a squeak, and a giggle, diving mouth first into the kiss like no one else was around.

The strawberry couldn't stop the sigh that escaped his lips, and he held his necklace tighter. Then he forcibly looked away from the scene, determined not to let anything interrupt his adrenaline high. He found himself nose to chest with the tight graphic tee that had been his focus for most of the last five minutes. Unable to help himself, he looked up into the bright cerulean gaze of the wearer of the shirt. He got all of a moment's warning before the mouth he'd been missing so keenly latched on to his own. He melted, utterly and completely, and found himself wrapping his arms around that strong neck, hauling himself up onto the slim waist, and crossing his ankles behind the taller man as wide, sturdy hands gripped his backside, holding him aloft. Paradise reigned until…

"Mmm, Kitten." The rumbled voice against his lips shocked him back to reality.

He pushed with all of his might against the man holding him and fell, ungracefully, to the floor just outside of the dressing room. He scrubbed his lips with the back of his hand and glared up at Grimmjow. How dare he!? After everything they'd been through! He was just about to voice those very thoughts when he caught the dimming of the light in his ex's eyes.

The blunette stepped up to him, bent over and picked up the necklace that had flown out of Ichigo's hand the second he'd launched himself away. He ran his thumb over the surface of the charm.

"Heh." He blinked with a sad smile. "Ya still wear it." Ichigo opened his mouth again, but Grimmjow cut him off. "Nah. I was outta line…again." He held the necklace out to his Kitten. "Here."

The gold and blue trinket pooled into the orangette's hand, and the Sexta turned to walk away. "Grimm…" His voice was rough.

"Yeah?" A sad eye looked over his shoulder at the former Substitute Shinigami still sitting on the floor.

"I…" He trailed off.

"Yeah…" Grimmjow answered. "See ya 'round, Ichigo." Without another word, the former Espada walked off, leaving the club completely.

Ichigo stared after him, then looked down at the charm. He traced the gemstones. It sparkled in the light coming from the stage—an old English style six.

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**A/N:** OMG! I'm back on this one! XD It took me forever to finish this chapter. I think this will probably be the last dance I actually write out for this story. The entire hold up was on designing Ichigo's costume! x.x Anyway, here's hoping it won't take me so long to finish the next chapter, ne? Enjoy, minna! Ja ne! =3


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